


our blood is cold

by morino



Series: [ collection ] – cocktail [3]
Category: springwave
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-10-13 17:16:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10518261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morino/pseuds/morino
Summary: i am yours. yes, yours.[ miscellaneous verses; min/shin ]





	

Eyes closed, hands clasped tight enough for blunt nails to dig into skin, Shin breathes in the scent of a liar and the culmination of three months spent crumbling under all of Min's hard work.    
  
Three months and he couldn't keep pretending he didn't want Min in ways that Min will never want him:   
  
Achingly, nakedly, recklessly.    
  
His sleeve is now red; his heart resided there once. Blood drips from it and onto the floor, oozing down to his wrist, swirling in rings around his fingers. He still breathes because Min allows him to, bloodied hands carrying a stolen gift he'll store somewhere coated in dust when someone with brighter eyes and an unfamiliar code captivates his imagination.      
  
With kisses feather-light and deceptively chaste, the sordid sound of skin against skin is the only thing that tells him this is not how Min makes love. But he is still rough in the places that coax affirmation out of him— _ I am yours, yes, yoursyoursyours _ .    
  
When his name spills from Shin like a prayer, Min watches with half-lidded eyes. In them, curiosity, disinterest, and mild satisfaction run around each other in an overlapping swarm and Shin ignores it all, wants to find what it is he's looking for.    
  
Min flops onto one side of the bed before he has the chance to find it. He takes a moment to lie there and catch his breath, then he's up. Min throws the thin covers over him like he cares about Shin getting cold and strides into the tiny bathroom without a second glance.    
  
Shin holds the covers close, closes his eyes, curls into himself. If he keeps still and prays for reality to seep into his dreams and drip out tinted by fantasy, maybe Min will come out of there clean and just as lonely. Maybe he'll creep under the blankets and wait until morning to make Shin regret this. Maybe he'll stay.    
  
The door swings open and he holds his breath. He can hear everything: the padding of Min's feet on the carpet, the rustling sound of jeans being pulled up his legs, the self-satisfied puff of air that leaves his lips as he stares down at what is just another notch on his belt.    
  
"Shin," he says, and it's more than he could have asked for.    
  
His head turns, eyes open. He feigns exhaustion and a lack of interest. Min smiles like he can see through it all. He pulls on his shirt.    
  
"I'm leaving."   
  
Shin acknowledges this with a soft humming noise. It's strained, but then Min's weight is making the mattress jostle his body around, and he's trapping him between his hands and knees. Shin doesn't look up, not even when he's letting the wrong words escape into the air between them.    
  
"Call me?"   
  
"I will."    
  
Min kisses his cheek before he grabs his jacket and leaves the motel room, and on Shin's cheek he's left behind the kind of hope that could kill him. 

 

-

  
  
_ I want to love you _ . Let me?    
  
I will.  _ You know I will _ .


End file.
